Death is beginning

Heaven or hell?, were my last thoughts.

Or what if I wander in streets like a lonely ghost and scare those young couple getting cosy in a dark alley

I wasn't scared of death but my punishment in the name of after-death or call it afterlife?

That night when I drowned, my lungs crammed with water I only hoped somebody would find my body and cremate. With every drop entering my lungs I fought to live; life was a nightmare but I never wanted to become one.

I opened my eyes and found on a soft bed with rose water smell tickling my nose. It was heaven, I assumed. But it wasn't!!! It was earth and I was alive, just in another dimension. The same streets had different names and same places looked unfamiliar. There was never a hell or heaven or ghost. People never really died. They just walked in to another dimension, another world inside a world.

 

There was marriage, children, education, science and also, a door to go back to earth and be born as somebody else.

Some people did but most stayed here. As this place had no terrorists, no thieves, no murders, no rapes. People lived in harmony. And those who couldn't were sent back to earth immediately.

People here often say, "You die and then you realize what you truly are."

And now I know, no matter what I did back there, I am not ready to go back to earth.

It is peaceful here.

Submission to the IndiSpire topic #DeathisBeginning

The story of an innocent soul

Man asked Yamraj (the lord of death) -

"Hey lord, I still do not understand what is my fault? Why I am dead at the age of 23? Did you know, my father died when I was just 4 years old? Since then my mother has struggled her life to feed me and my sister, to give us the right education and now when I just started earning, paying her back you take me away from them? I am responsible for my sister's education and then her wedding but now tell me how will my mother take care of everything alone now? Don't you think you are being unjust and unfair? 

At the age of 16, when my friends tried alcohol I stayed away. Not that I am deprived of these simple human curiosities but I knew my responsibilities. I wanted to be a good son, start earning and may be then try out drinking once at least. I never smoked ever so far when all my friends did. I didn't even have a girlfriend. In fact when I was in college a beautiful girl, Meena, proposed to me. I guess I liked her too but I rejected her. You know why. Girls are distraction to my studies so I stayed away from them but this year after I got this new job I was going to ask her to marry me. Well, now I guess that is not going to happen.

After my dad died while riding a motor bike, mom had been sceptical about me driving. She never let me ride a bicycle also. In college my friends once told me they would teach me how to ride but I never wanted to hurt my mother's feelings. So, I never learnt how to ride or drive. I usually take the bus or walk. Walking is good for health and saves a lot money. Hence, every day morning I walked from my house to office. 

Even while walking, I made sure to cross roads via zebra cross and only when it indicates green signal for pedestrians. Never used mobile phones while walking on the road or break any rules. I was alert and very conscious. 

Last evening when I was walking back home, I stood near the curb to cross road waiting for green signal. Just when it had turned green and I walked few steps in zebra cross, a car zooming in full speed made its way and hit me hard. I was flipped like a coin and my head was broken in to pieces. The driver seemed extremely rich driving a luxurious car, having no responsibilities, extremely drunk and a hot girl by his side. He broke all the rules by driving when the signal was red for vehicles, that too in full speed, drunk. But the irony is, he is still alive getting treated in the hospital where as I am dead. Do you think it is fair on your part to do something like this? Don't you think he should have died instead of me? "

Yamraj calmly replied -

"I am sorry to hear to your story but people's mistakes are to be borne by people. It doesn't matter whose fault it is, but your sins are answered by you. Lord gave you such a beautiful life but you people are spoiling it every day. You people are killing each other. Not me. I am just taking the dead. If you people aren't playing safe, then trust me lot more people will have to answer"

Only if the man was not drunk

Only if the man halted at red signal

Only if he was not speeding

A life of an innocent would have been saved. This might be just a story but this is also the true tale of many people. Drive safe, be safe and let others be safe. 

This post is written as a part of IndiBlogger contest in association with Nissan Safety Driving Forum. For more information please check their website https://www.nissan.in/innovation/NSDF.html

"The Nissan Motor Co., Ltd., conducts the Nissan Safety Driving Forum (NSDF) in India as part of its safety driving promotion activities. The program began as an annual activity in 2012. The overall reach and engagement levels have phenomenally grown and NSDF has effectively reached close to 2 lakh citizens. It continues to stay committed to its core objective of promoting safe driving behaviour in India. NSDF also conducts live simulated experiences to understand how safety features function through a simulated car crash. A 360-degree turn over highlights the use of seatbelts, while sessions on road safety emphasises on road etiquette to stay safe. NSDF encourages drivers and passengers to wear seatbelts, and participants learn through interactive activities the importance of wearing seatbelts. Nissan seeks to support reducing fatalities and injuries caused by traffic accidents, and NSDF represents the company's commitment in contributing to young, vibrant and mobile India."

The other side of LOVE !!!!

I could never explain it to her, he thought and when he peeped through the window, she seemed happy. Just happy. Her bedroom was decorated with balloons and red ribbons, red is her favorite, and Mia bubbled some more air bubbles in to the air, while she innocently tried to burst them with her fragile fingers. There he saw her laugh, for the first time after what happened. And for that moment, he wished his world to stop, just to look at her laugh, hear her giggles, see her jump and burst some more air bubbles. He was relieved. He had waited for so long to live this moment. Five years to be precise. And today, he saw the same joy which had caressed her life five years ago when he had first seen her in her dance class, dancing out of the world without any qualms or complaints; losing herself to every beat. But sadly, he saw her being insanely happy only on that day. Since then, she was only lost. He only saw tears wetting her life and he never saw her dance again. The pain was too much for him to bear; he silently wiped out those harsh tears and smiled as he knew today was the day to celebrate. 

After five long years of wait she was finally smiling, laughing, dancing along with Mia. After five years she broke out of her prison in which she forced herself in to a death sentence. What was so different today, he wondered. In the last five years she never celebrated her birthday, she never let anyone wish her. He knew today was something more than her birthday and how much he had understood her, he was definite those cute dimple of hers told another tale of joy. It wasn't simply because she was born on that same day twenty two years back. She was never a woman of past anyways so the present spoke for her joy. "What if she has got some clue?" The mere thought ran a shiver down his soul and he prayed, that day would never come. Then why would she be so happy? The more he saw her laugh and giggle an uncomfortable lump formed in his throat and he couldn't gulp it. Now tears of joy had turned in to something dark which he wished to forget, to start fresh. But they say, how can you actually leave behind the path you have walked on, as only that is responsible for where you are today. He was sure if it hadn't been his dark past, he would have never followed this beautiful girl for as long as five years, he wouldn't have fallen in love. Yes, he loved her more than an eternity could decipher, more than he himself ever understood. Otherwise, why would he celebrate her birthday lurking behind a mango tree peeping through her windows, singing happy birthday silently, smiling over her laughter and crying over his helplessness. She didn't even know he existed but for him she was his world. Her every small desire was his life’s goal and whenever she prayed for something, he made an extra effort to make it happen. But no matter what he did, she was never happy until today. So was he, in the last five years. Finally, happy to see his love happy.

“Tessa, will you at least cut your cake now? I am hungry” Mia was shouting

“Wait a minute Mia. I feel someone is behind that Mango tree.” Tessa was scared with the thought of someone watching her. All her smiles vanished and fear engulfed her like it did before. She silently walked towards the window and shut them.

There his happiness had come to an end. He cursed himself for being present and ruining her evening. But he couldn't help himself. He just silently walked past that Mango tree, in to his car and drove away wondering how his life would have been different had he not killed her parents. At least he could have expressed his love for her or may be, he would have never followed her and fallen in love with her. 

Love pushed him to live through his guilt but also, made him die every single second counting her endless tears. And yeah, only love can do that !!!!

FREEDOM !!!

There she was amid the fake twinkles of life; swaying her bare hands, tapping those skinny legs and occasionally shaking those voluptuous breasts. The first day when she entered that room she was 11 years old and she witnessed a whole new dirty world stretched open her. As she grew, she was a hit. A pretty fair face with a curvaceous to-kill-for kind of a body! What else she needed to be a star amongst the dark patched sulky faces. An instant blockbuster indeed !!! But she didn't feel it that way. Every day, every hour spent in that bar sucked her towards a whole worse life. She had no choice; after all she was a show piece sold at a hefty price . She felt ugly there, uglier than ever. Especially when money fell upon her touching her golden blouse, swiftly caressing her bare belly to find its native near her foot. That was the real reason why she was there. That was the reason why she was asked to hide her womanhood under a shining much revealing blouse and a low hung red lehenga and a partially visible dupatta. There she was feeling the void inside her soul, crying out loud only to hear the dikh-chik music playing aloud. She wasn't proud being a bar dancer, but to say less, she had to survive.

source

Everyday sharp at 7 pm she entered this cheap world of smoke, alcohol, music and nudity. Her eyes witnessed police stations on some days and dingy looking hotel bedrooms on another. Yet, it was this smoke filled dim lighted bar she hated the most. She felt raped every second. Those prying eyes scrutinized every single detail whacking her femininity hard. She smiled, dying a million deaths inside. She smiled when they pulled her hand and offered their lap to sit. They touched her, pinched her, insulted her, and molested her. She only smiled.

One evening a man on the right corner table signaled her with a bundle of notes as she silently walked towards him. A stout man, his stomach largely popping out from the table and shining bald head glittered even more than the thick gold chain hung over his neck. Richness was savoring every bit of him.  Instantly, she knew –she had come across many of this kind – the man seeks nothing more but physical pleasure jaded with the same position with the same wife. The moment her hands reached for the bundle, he quickly shifted it inside his safari coat giving a come-get-it-baby laughter. Playfulness was pouring out of his alcohol stuffed body. She sat on his lap at his command served him drinks and gave him a ride through her beautiful giggles. When the bundle was out he reached for her blouse to insert them inside having his moment of fun. Next day, same right corner table felt his presence and so did her golden blouse and so many days afterwards. She had seen no customer being so prompt at the table and waiting only for her. She even wondered once or twice if he was in love with her, only to laugh at her tiny joke shoving her laughter.  But with each day he explored her body a bit more as if that bundle owned her. At last, bar manager asked her to accompany him to the room upstairs and there was an instant truth lying naked in front of her, no love was her destiny; it was all in the name of lust!

Source

Once again the same smelly dark bedroom called out her name. Once again, she couldn't meet the eyes of barely naked women in those half torn posters glued to the wall. Once again a new man stood right in front - striped. Once again, she felt she wouldn't repeat this act again. Once again she saw herself being exposed, killing her morals, her innocence and her self-respect. When she felt his heavy body on her broken soul, she felt captive of this male dominated society who used her just for pleasure. Her identity was being razed, she kept silent. She was silent all these years unable to break free. But it was different that night. The voices grew louder and she couldn't even close her ears. She shut her eyes tight, yet those violent noises made her nauseate. She saw him, heard him and felt him. She wanted to scream aloud – get off me you asshole. But she kept silent but for how long? The lava of anguish was ready to burst open and her soul begged for mercy and freedom.  All those years were rolling in front of her like a motion picture and she knew, she was more than a bar dancer. If nothing great, at least a human being! She couldn't live this life forever. She couldn't be a whore in the lap of a dancer. She couldn't be that tied animal wagging tail on command. She had to be free. And she knew freedom was lying next to her satisfied.

Source

Next day morning, when police arrived they saw her lay amid the pool of blood. His blood was scattered all around redefining an old saga of a woman’s revenge. And he rested motionless beside her. His paunch still popping out, his safari all torn and tormented while his severed body parts roared a brutal torture. Her frustration, anger, helplessness were marked on every brick of that room but more on his body. May be her vengeance was over and story too. But her real life began there.

Source

S

Love beyond eternity...

It was an explosion; though it looked tiny, it had killed everyone aboard.  For once, it reminded me of crackers bursting in the azure sky during Diwali. This was different. It was not fun as the fire splattered the colour of blood. I gazed again through the window, wondering what really was happening but it had vanished, in seconds. Boom! It was all gone, burnt in ashes. The moment I caught held of my senses, I ran towards the luggage counter to report what my eyes witnessed.  So foolish of me, obviously the entire airport was engulfed in the smell of death, shattered, torn in to pieces. Saccadic eye movements asking bizarre questions made me nauseous; I too was at the rim of questioning.

I asked a passenger who looked quite lost like everybody else.

“What happened to that plane? Was it an explosion? Which plane was it?” In the verge of curiosity I had forgotten all my friendly manners learnt for years.

“Nobody really knows what is happening. Rumours are to be believed then we are still at risk. Terrorists are walking around in this airport right now. I just want to get back to my family as soon as possible” he whispered, rigid with fear and some strange longing to be alive.

 “Do you have any idea which plane was under attack?” I didn't know why that piece of information seemed important, which of course was important!

“Looks like, its JA 9w 321. That was the one to departure just now” he replied again submerged in the valley of unknown emotions.

I couldn't believe the words he uttered and after re-confirming, I just had to thank god for making me the sleepyhead.

Like always, I got up at 3 am to catch up my early morning flight. Staying at a good three hour drive away from the airport, I jiggled in the car unable to sleep. I made myself comfortable on the soft cushiony sofa only to make up for my deprived sleep. Thank heavens, flight was delayed by an hour. The best part of sleeping in an airport is, nobody wakes you up except the announcement chap but he seemed to have no effect on me. So I slept like a small baby sleeps on mother’s lap.  And when I was finally woken up by an old fellow -the kind who intrudes in everybody’s business- I was pissed off to be precise. I gazed outside window, still yawning, cursing the old fellow only to see a miniature airplane explode in the sky right in front of me; the same airplane which I had missed due to my torpid sleep. I thanked god, a zillion times for keeping me alive, for delaying the flight by an hour, for making me sleepy and for not hearing the announcements.

Considering the lightning speed work of journalists these days, my family would presume I was dead too. Neena! She would be broken. I had to call her at the earliest. But not-so-surprisingly there was no network in my phone and all the paid booths were dead. Damn the jammers, I had to call my family to inform I was alive. After pestering 'cut-the-crap', airport security officials for long, they threatened an arrest for causing security breach. Growling tiger to a tiny mouse, I let myself in to the lounge silently, waiting for the jammers to lift the curse. Thoughts about Neena began seeping in making me restless and calm at the same time. I knew she would be worried but the very thought of her made my lips twitch. I was smiling, in an airport where hundreds of people had died, where my own life had no guarantee, where terrorists were walking like civilians, and where death had invaded our privacy prying in to everybody’s life. Yet, there I was, sitting with frightened, agitated, horror-struck strangers, smiling silently thinking about my Neena.

I had first met Neena on the day I was born. We were born in the same hospital, same day and our cradles being placed next to each other made us fall in love instantly. Neena was not only my birth mate but also, my class mate, neighbor, distant relative and best friend. We grew up like two bodies cladded in one soul.  I had proposed to her in second standard amidst the entire family, literally screaming, that I would marry only Neena and she acting like a woman already, smiled in consent. I loved everything about Neena and as she grew up, she looked no less than Angelina Jolie. She had a lean and athletic body with naturally thick and pouted lips, which any model would envy upon. With brown eyes, long lashes and a perfectly heart shaped face; I let out a deep sigh every time I watched her cross me. But, the best part was her giggling laughter, which pierced my heart rendering a smooth pain making me fall in love with her every day. That was my Neena, an angel chiseled out of heaven walking straight in to my life as if she was born for me. Neena could have done so much better in selecting a groom considering my short and squat body, making me look shorter irrespective of being taller than her. I wasn't smart looking at all and to Neena’s standards, I knew, I could never match. With all the physical irregularities kept aside, we were madly in love. Not since second standard but since our birth, we were born to lighten up each others' lives. And so we obeyed destinies command. We got married right after college unable to bear the distance of two gates. Marriage not only bonded us for law but for eternity. Things never changed after marriage like warned by my friends, but my involvement in family business did. She often complained about my business tours. Having no other options left, I disappointed her each time, leaving her alone for weeks. This time it was going to be different as I had asked her to join me in Dublin, after my meetings were accomplished, for a romantic weekend. 

But the plans got crashed along with the crashing plane. Oh the terrorists!!! Didn't they get any other day for killing people? When I was parading between romance and helplessness, an airport officer pulled me out of my reverie.

“Excuse me sir, you need to come with us for some questions” I obeyed hoping I could go home soon.

They questioned me like I had planted a bomb in the plane I was supposed to catch and faked my sleep. This is what is wrong with the government; they catch the innocent walking past by the guilty. Anyways, after a lot of questioning, they asked me to wait in the lounge again. Phones were still dead and so looked the people in the airport. I sat again thinking about Neena as only she was giving me constant hope and much needed support in that valley of unexpected silent death. I sat, slept, prayed, hummed, dreamed, counted hours, minutes and seconds but we were stranded in the airport for almost fifteen hours. Finally, we were asked to leave, I breathed deep to suck in some fresh air. 

I rushed towards a taxi and jumped in out of excitement, to tell Neena, how I had escaped death. I once thought of calling her but chucked the idea as I wanted to surprise her. But again, took my cell phone out to find a dead one. I smiled silently, imagining her crying yet smiling face on seeing me. I stopped on the way and bought a bunch of her favourite Gerbera flowers and Cadbury silk, which we both licked in competition. Even after three years of marriage, we still acted like high school teenagers living in the cocoon of love and playfulness. Love meant everything to us; we fought, we kicked, we licked, we cuddled, we ran, we stopped, we flied, and we filled infinite colours of joy in our lives. A drop silently made its way out of my eye, imagining the beautiful days I had lived with Neena and countless to come. As the driver pressed the brake pedal hard, my heart accelerated anticipating her smiling face.  When I reached my house, I was overwhelmed with tears flooding, only to feel how much I was loved. People hugged me but no one spoke. I hesitantly pushed the crowd, making way in to my bed room to see my Neena. In between, my mother stopped me, looking perplexed, tears rolling her eyes and uttered a meek line, ‘are you still alive?’, as if she was sad to see me alive. It didn't bother me. I walked hurriedly towards my bed room, which was crowded again - I wanted to shout, leave me and Neena alone for a while, I am alive – only to find my Neena lying on the bed all alone with eyes wide open and that soft white skin turned blue. They were waiting for the police to arrive and take her body. I was asked not to touch her. I did not move- stood there watching my beautiful Neena lay motionless- god knows for how long. 

Her father handed her suicide note to me, which read,

“Life started with Akash and so will death. I see no life without his presence. I promised to follow him and I will, no matter where he takes me. I am sorry dad and mom for this drastic step, but I am sure you will understand that I can’t survive a single second of my life without My love, My Akash”

"Do you understand my pain?"

She asked him often, “Do you understand my pain” and he gladly nodded his head to say yes. Upon his response she looked at him rather surprisingly wondering, if he even knows what that ‘yes’ meant to her. It definitely meant her world, her kingdom which she has been chasing for so many years to conquer, to grab her butt over that relinquished throne. She asked him again and again hoping for a change in answer, but things seemed no different. It is not that she enjoyed this topic over a bucket of popcorn with some diet coke; she heartedly hated it. She knew she was scratching a wound relentlessly to make it a blister and then in to something that can never be healed and if healed, to leave a scare for life. And there he was, making her believe he understands her pain. For once her heart let out an instant spark and it smiled thoroughly after long miserable years, comforting it said “he understands you dear” but immediately she realized may be his words were coaxing her heart in to liking him. May be he never even tried to understand it.

Source

She had concluded even before meeting him that nobody can even remotely relate to her pain or even come in a zone of understanding it. She never shared as well, not a crime though. The fact was, the instant she had turned this knob everybody’s gaze would change. May be from hatred to misery to sympathy to anger or at worst the look of a lawyer, when he knows for sure his client is guilty but he has to support him to feed his hungry stomach. So she never shared. The only person who came so close to her pain, instead of the expected weird statements, he said, he understands her.

Source

There she was repenting the action of sharing vivid picture of her childhood. “You were young, helpless and harmless. Anybody could have taken advantage of you. So why do you feel guilty?” he had asked the first time. She was perplexed by his statement and replied, “You are not in my shoes so you don’t know the feel of a shoe bite or even worse, not being able to wear one for few days”.  Not even for a single second she felt guilty but sad. Over years the sadness faded and blossomed as a thick thorn which kept pricking and made her prick others by actions, by words, by choice. She was rude, sarcastic, right on your head kind of a person without any emotions but was she to blame for it? 

Source

He asked her, “why can’t you just let it go and live like it never happened?” and she said, “Because it did happen and you won’t understand the touch of a stranger in the strange places of my body in a strange way when I was in living an age of Alice in wonderland. Trust me, it wasn't a good wonderland”.

Source

Even today, she probes in to her past to know if she had missed an opportunity of becoming the front page news years ago by keeping her tiny hole of mouth shut. How world would have whirled around her if she had become the top news? How she would have survived then? Did she make a mistake by not letting the secret out or was this the only way to live? Over and over again she walks down that lane trying to empty out the baggage, only to realize she was shoving in some extra weight with her each visit. 

Source

While all these hefty calculations were cramming her head he puts in some more thoughts by saying he understands her pain. May be he wasn't so sure. May be this was not his final answer. May be she would ask him again tomorrow if he truly, willfully, honestly and most important, respectfully understands her pain. 

Silent conviction

First time when her scent veiled his nose buds, he had no choice but to look around. There she was. Cladded in a red satin drape, pleated neatly she looked no lesser than a fairy itself. Those pearl beaded jhumka and a long golden necklace over the deep neckline enhanced her womanhood.  She was smiling, a cute one, he defined. The closer she walked, more divine she looked. The sound of her bangles, felt called out his name. That moment, without a second thought he knew she was the one. His soul mate. He closed his eyes and visualized her again from different angles, in different outfits and she looked pretty without any doubt. Finally, when she let out an infectious laughter he was infected, lethally. He had become hers, forever.

But before the love story began, there was a question about her identity. It was his distant relative's engagement. So she belonged to his family tree, from some branch. He was certain. Being the same caste, his future marriage would move in a smooth fashion without any oppositions from his family. But he had no idea who she was. He had to ask her. Walking towards her, braiding the next sixty years of his life with her, he let out a meek smile.

She was surrounded by a bunch of women, all chattering and giggling and glittering. He didn't know how to break the 'chakravyuh' to reach her. But he managed, power of love. When he stood right in front of her, looking in to her brown eyes he was speechless like he had a stroke and paralyzed for life. Not amid the crowd, he thought. He silently made his way towards the corner and kept gazing at her. Waiting for her to be alone, waiting to open his heart, waiting to love and be loved. That evening, the only thing that mattered him the most was her approval.

He was scared like a child entering school the first time. He was aware of the fact, he wasn't handsome. The probability of her "no" "get lost" "are you mad?" were flying to reach the sky. Scared. Hopeful. Hopeless. Nervous. He stood there all alone, waiting for her. The engagement, the family gathering, the joy of being together didn't grab his attention that day.  He wanted to talk but fear of rejection kept pummeling him making him lose his confidence. He followed her wherever she went and stood at a corner. Life was only about her. At least on that day. Today, after twenty three years, when he looks at his wedding album, he only thinks "May be these pictures would have looked even more beautiful".

The Brut-ish Boy!!!

         There were no second thoughts, I was for sure not in Love! But there was something about him I longed everyday every minute I sat next to him. Was it attraction? Was it infatuation? Was it the so-called-famous love? Attraction and infatuation involves physical attributes but considering that, he had scored a perfect zero. Not that he was bad looking, as I put it, just not my type. He looked milky fair (I often asked, if his mother was a foreigner) with slightly chocolate brown hair (apt for center shock advertisement) and emerald green eyes. See now you understand how alien-ish he looked. So there were no second thoughts about me being attracted towards him. So if the first two are ruled out what is left, Love. People say, love is blind but can it be this blind? People also say, in love even a money looks like the prince right from fairy tales, not to my luck. I was totally perplexed by my own attitude, consoling myself every two minutes, of falling in love with green eyed peas. Yet, somewhere my heart let out a meek cry, that I was not in love with this chap. Yet, my heart wanted to be next to him smelling his fragrance. The day he would skip classes, I would sit alone seemingly dull, missing him. Or may be I missed his fragrance. Once I asked him to change his perfume and all my questionable love was flushed down the gutter. I never loved him (confirmed) but his perfume. The smell of his perfume was so addictive, making me believe I was in love. 

        Even after pestering him for two long years, he never revealed the name of his seductive mistress. I only wished if google could search it for me by smelling!!! Our school days were over and finally, when I stepped in to college a similar smell haunted me. I was elated on hearing its name, finally. So after two years of following a colourful (not metaphorically but literally) man, I show case a bottle on my dressing table, smelling often spraying as a room freshener but satisfied because of the lingering smell and the fact, I was still single.